by C.M. Kars
“Your throat made my mouth itch, especially when I found out how much you liked it when I would lightly suck on your skin there. Your tits, well, there’s no comparison, and I never hid how much I fucking loved them. Your legs, kitten, how sweetly you would open for me when all I needed was to put my hand on your knee.”
I’m puffing out my breaths, and we’re so close now that he feels the air on his lips. Dean’s body is radiating heat, and I hadn’t noticed until now that my fingers are like ice, just like my heart is. The ache between my legs heightens, making me whimper.
Why can’t we just go to the bedroom already?
“And one of my favourite parts, right here,” he says, while placing his giant hand on my pubic bone, thumb to pinky spanning my hips. “I craved this every single night, the taste of you, the feel of you – until that lunch period at school when you just had to humiliate me in front of everyone. When you made me out to be your lovesick puppy.” His hand pushes down between my hips, making me whimper some more. I need pressure, but not from the outside.
“I said I was sorry,” I whisper, trying to not break the spell. At least he’s talking to me instead of giving me dirty looks. At least there’s that.
“Fine. You’re sorry. But I’m not opening myself up for that again.”
“Fucking shit, Dean, it’s just sex!” I yell, taking a tiny step backwards. He follows me, keeping his hand on my lower belly, the heat somehow soothing and infuriating at the same time.
I hate him, I hate him.
“You were my first. I was yours. I’ve been holding a torch for you ever since. Now that I’ve seen what you’re like – it’s an easy decision for me to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
“I’d rather be fucking you,” I say, dazzled to see his eyebrows pop high on his forehead. “Swear at me all you want, but you won’t hurt me, and we both know that. I may have changed but we know you haven’t. Look at his place!” I wave my arms around, encasing all his books and movies and games in one full sweep.
“What’s so great about you and your life, huh? Who the fuck has time reading these books? Who has time to play video games when there’s work to be done and money to be made? What the fuck makes you so much better than me?”
Dean shuts his eyes and I watch the muscle at his jaw do hopscotch. His eyes pop open and I’ve never felt more like an asshole. “Maybe I live for something more than the next paycheck. Maybe I enjoy my life and I like everything where it is.”
“Fucking me will not change any of that.”
Christ, why am I begging?
Because no one’s ever told you no and you’re being an idiot.
“I’ll be gone and you can go back to playing your stupid ass video games and going nowhere in your life,” I say, trying to convince him.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Ditto that, asshole!” I shout, and hear three distinct canine whimpers coming from Dean’s bedroom.
“No, I know exactly what you’re like,” he shows me his teeth and stands perfectly still.
“You’re selfish and mean. You neglect your best friend and you think you’re better than everybody, you think you’re better than her.”
Fire-bolts explode in my brain, and I lose sight of him for a second. “Yeah, everybody fucking loves Sera,” I snarl. “She’s so fucking great and awesome.”
Oh, God, I’m jealous. I’m so jealous.
“You bet your ass she’s fucking great and awesome. You don’t hold a candle next to her.”
I’m going to have a seizure – does he actually believe what he’s saying? He’s not smiling; this isn’t a joke.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, kitten, you’re fucking hot,” he laughs, a mean laugh, the kind of laugh you’d expect some assholes to have after you passed them by in the street and they’re discussing which and how many times they’d fuck you. I don’t like that sound coming out of Dean’s mouth. Right now, it doesn’t seem to be out of place.
“You got a body that makes my dick hard and my brain go numb. And yeah, we could fuck tonight, share the sheets when we’re done, but you know what?”
“What?” I snap, breathing hard. I’m going to kill him; I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. He’s not even that good of a kisser, and I’m sure no one’s fucked him since the eleventh grade. He probably sucks at it.
Fucker!
“I’d hate myself in the morning – I’d feel sick to my stomach that I fucked a person like you.”
Boom...boom-boom....boom...boom-boom. My heart’s still beating, even if my hearing has wonked out. I blink a few times, but everything I do is in slow-mo, taking years and years of movement to get anything done. It takes a century to swivel on my heel, and another for my brain to figure out how to find the door and open it. It takes another generation to remember which way to turn for the elevator. It takes a decade for me to decide to take the stairs.
It takes seconds for me to realize I’m in my car, doors locked and breathing heavily. It takes a nanosecond for me to realize that I’m crying, my tears completely and utterly ruining my carefully applied makeup.
How could he say those things to me? Even after he told me he’s been practically in love with me all these years! What the flying fuck?
I need to call Sera – she’ll make me feel better; she knows how to cheer me up with a list of all my best attributes, and she’ll list my weaknesses so that they pale in comparison.
I feel like I’m being torn apart, that someone’s taken rib-cutters to my chest and is performing all sorts of crazy shit on my heart. God, it shouldn’t hurt this much – it really shouldn’t, all over what he said?
I’m not weak – I’m strong! I don’t cry over insults. I don’t!
Except no one’s ever spoken to me that way, and the last time I cried was over my parents’ divorce. This shouldn’t hurt this much. Words are only words – they don’t really mean anything in the end. Every single person makes promises they don’t keep, everybody lies. Words are bullshit, so I shouldn’t be this upset.
I start the car then fish for my phone. Sera always knows how to make me feel better. She knows what to say to cheer me up – mainly in listing why I’m so awesome and how I’m a gift to the human race.
“Hey-” she says, but I cut her off. I hold my breath to keep from hyperventilating-sobbing and wish for luck.
“Get ready, I’ll be over in ten and we’re going drinking.”
“No, I can’t-”
Minefields of anger explode in my chest, making the meat raw and aching. Flickers of light dance over eyes, and I’ve ground down so hard on my back teeth, they squeak, and flare pain up my jaw. I’m breathing faster now, the pressure building inside my head, chest, and the fuck everywhere else. I could kill someone.
Was there a fucking meeting? Is it tell-Katie-no day?
“What the fuck do you mean, no? What the fuck is so important that you can’t take me out?”
“I can’t, K, and I don’t know why you’re yelling at me-”
“Because I need you to come out with me!” I yell, holding my phone tight enough to make bendgate look like a pleasant dream. “Fucking shit, Sera, I need to drink!”
“I can’t come out, I’m sorry!” she whispers into the phone, and I hear murmuring in the background.
“Stop blowing MacLaine and get your fat ass ready! I’m not going to say it twice!” I howl into the phone, jacking my car into gear and reversing without looking behind me. What the fuck ever, I wish I could hit Dean with my car all over again.
Fucking dick!
“What did you just say?” her voice comes out with an edge to it, but it’s nothing but fluff. I need her to listen to me and do what I’m asking of her.
“You heard me. You’ve got ten minutes.”
“No! I’m not going anywhere with you. Not when you’re talking to me like that.”
“Get the fuck over it, Delos. You know I don’t say half as bad shit as your paren
ts do. Get fucking ready.”
“NO.”
I stop at a red light just in time, yelling into the phone. “Get fucking ready or I’m going to come there and break the house down. I swear to God, I will burn all your fucking books if you don’t do this for me.”
Silence, absolute silence.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I hiccup on a sob, and press the gas.
“None of your fucking business. You don’t want to talk to me, fine! Go fuck yourself, Sera, since MacLaine seems to be doing such a shit job at it,” I say, shooting in the dark. Her gasp adds another flare of pain into my chest, and I want to tear off my clothes and somehow open myself up to get it out of me.
I hang up, and shoot my phone on the passenger seat, swearing all the while fucking idiots who don’t know how to drive to save their lives get in my lane. I cut people off and swerve into other lanes without indicating. I go the only place that will give me what I need.
And what I need right now is a bottle of Canadian Club and some ice to chase it with.
There’s no way I’m getting through tonight without it.
Chapter 15
I’m shaking as I walk into the main lobby of the hotel and see my mom’s face smooshed against Malcolm’s in that cutesy way couples do that makes me want to barf.
The whole picture looks like a farce. It doesn’t show how flighty she is, how awful she was to my dad for doing what she did. It doesn’t show Malcolm’s piss-poor attitude when it comes to me; or how he bad-mouths my dad. It’s just a fucking picture and it sure as fuck doesn’t speak a thousand words, but only one: liars.
I stomp into the dining hall, sickened by the rosy glow to the lighting and the murmur of a whole bunch of my mother’s friends, friends who I felt were family, murmuring to one another, staring at me as I walk in.
Yeah? Well, look your fill, bitches. I’ll never do what you did, and that makes me better than you.
Malcolm’s kids are there, too, two dudes and a chick a bit younger than me, but I pass them by without even a smile. I don’t even think I could fake a smile right now.
I take my seat right next to my mom, with the fucker on the other side of her, and laser-in on finding a waiter who will bring me what I need.
I wave one over, and it’s lost on me how very cute he is. There’s only one guy I want right now and he hates my guts. Whatever, maybe I can pretend the waiter’s Dean when I have a few drinks – worse things have been known to happen.
“Miss?” he asks, all toothy grin, and charm oozing from his pores.
Yeah, yeah, you want a tip.
“I want a Jack and Sprite. Anytime you see I’m almost done, I expect another one to be in its place. Got it?” I make myself understood: he takes care of me and I’ll take care of him. I’ve got a $100 in my wallet assigned specifically for this purpose.
“Got it. I’ll be right back,” he says, nodding at me. I watch him go speak to the bartender, while looking over his shoulder at me.
Hello? Get me my drink!
“Katie, sweetheart,” Mom says, placing a hand on my forearm, effectively making me turn in my seat to look at her. I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted in my life, but the bad news is, I don’t know if my behaviour is making me disgusted with myself or everybody else.
I wish Dean was here. I wish he was here, sitting next to me in a suit and tie. I wish his arm was over the back of my chair, his knees open, practically slouching in his seat, fixing me with a lazy stare and an easy smile that would make all this okay, that would make all this better.
Yeah, you wish he was here, but he wants nothing to do with you. Meet your new boyfriend, Jack Daniels.
“Hi,” I say, taking a swig of my cool drink, letting the taste roll over my tongue.
“Thank you for coming,” she says.
I put my drink down and give her a look with narrowed eyes. “As if I had a choice in the matter. You hounded me to be here. Trust me, Mom, this is the last place I’d be tonight.”
She has a good way of hiding her true feelings. Hell, there had to be some sort of magic mojo going on for her to hide Malcolm from my Dad for almost three years. Except now there’s a tiny pinch of skin between her eyebrows that I know she’ll need botox for sooner or later.
Maybe I should tell her that now to ruin her night.
“I did not hound you, and I wanted you to be here, to be happy for me.”
I snort. “You’re an idiot, and I’m even more of an idiot for coming here.” I say, taking another swig of Jack. Seriously, though, how did I finish it already? And good waiter-man that he is, I get another one placed right beside my old one that I just put down. I smile at him, making promises for later.
“Fine, Katie, be miserable over here, by yourself. Don’t try to mingle or make conversation.”
“Thanks, Mom. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me ever.” I ignore her pissed-off look.
It used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid, but that was when I thought that she was a god, and had complete control over my life. Turns out gods make mistakes, too, and sometimes, they’re not even punished for it.
Across the table from me are Malcolm’s kids taking their fucking seats. Now I have to look at their ugly fucking faces all night. Somebody’s going to get a fork in the eye, and I’m not going to be held responsible.
Jared is the oldest and he thinks he’s the shit. I fucking hate him. Erin’s the middle and she has her Dad wrapped around her little finger; she gives me a smile, but I don’t return it. I’m not here to make friends. Cody’s the youngest and I think he has a crush on me.
“Enjoying yourself, Katarina?” Jared says, butchering my name. There’s supposed to be an art to it, a way to roll the R, a way to let it flow off your tongue that only Sera and Dean have ever gotten – it’s supposed to sound like a tiny piece of music.
Instead, I get the Anglo way of saying an R, and a stumble through all the syllables, like he’s trying to get through my name as fast as possible. Fucking dickhead.
“Oh, yeah. I’m having so much fun now that you’re here.”
Jared coughs in his fist, and stares at me like he’d like nothing better than to force me up against a wall and fuck me hard. Well, at least I know I’m still attractive and somebody wants me. Not that I’d touch Jared with a ten-foot pole; he’s nasty in a way that would make me seriously question my sanity and need intensely hot showers to wash him off.
Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, Dean… Do I really make you feel that way?
I wash down the pain with more alcohol, satisfied to see a third glass of the light-caramel-colored liquid waiting for me when I’m done. The waiter gives me a wink, and thinks I’m a sure thing.
Well, don’t presume, motherfucker. I’m not that far gone yet.
But it would be fun to have sex while Mom is spewing her bullshit love for Malcolm and thanking everyone for coming.
Yeah… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea after all…
“Katie!” Mom barks, dragging me out of my dreams with my potential hook-up tonight. “Come say hi to Malcolm.”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. Have a nice day.” I chug some more of my drink, letting the cool liquid pool in my stomach to soothe my anger and hurt.
Alcohol is the fucking best. It really is.
Jared smirks, and even Erin lets out a peal of laughter. Cody looks at me with a frown.
Oh, look, I’ve gone and made the littlest Malcolm-spawn upset. If Sera would here she’d give Gryffindor points. Ah, fuck, Sera and all the shit I said… Damn it, I wish she was here, too.
“Katarina DiNovro, you get up, and say hello to your step-father,” Mom growls in my ear, pinching my arm fat underneath my pit and twisting. I chew on my lower lip and don’t let out a sound. So this is what it’s come to.
“I’m not a little kid anymore, Mom. Now, get your hands off me. Hi zia!” I yell excitedly, waving my aunt Angelina over to my side of the table. Her dark eyes pinball between me and
my mom, but I shrug it off, and feel the blood rushing back under my arm where Mom has finally let go.
Sometimes, I really, really hate her. Sometimes, I wish Mom was the one cursed and not me. I’m just starting my life; she thinks she can start over without making waves – it doesn’t fucking work like that.
Zia Angelina comes over, wearing this gorgeous red number that hugs her curves and shows off the girls to perfection. She’s always been prettier than my mom, sweeter, but never in your face about it.
“Hi, piccolina,” she says, giving me my nickname of ‘little’ back when I was a kid. I haven’t seen her in so long. “Como va?” My aunt speaks perfect English, she just likes putting Mom on edge.
“Could you speak English, please?” Mom’s voice comes out strained, and I want to start laughing. “Not everyone here is Italian, you know.”
Zia nods her head, like she heard and then smiles. “Obviously. Why else do you think I’m speaking in my mother tongue?”
Oh,shit! Shots fired!
“Come here, zia, come sit next to me. What can I get you to drink, I’ve got this guy, and he’s really taking care of me,” I say, patting the chair next to me. She moves over, settling her ass on the chair and looks at me with a mixture of worry and confusion.
“Dov'è tuo papà?”
I lean closer because my brain can’t think right now. “As if Dad would show up. Are you crazy? You want Malcolm dead? Ha, that’d be a sight to see,” I say, grinning.
Zia says nothing, and the light tone of the violins is getting on my nerves.
“Piccolina, what are you doing?” She runs a hand through my loose hair, and I’m suddenly five years old again and she’s braiding it for me. I sniff hard, and move back in my chair, putting space between us. “Why are you hurting so much, mia bambina? You knew this was coming.”
I nod, taking another gulp of my drink – it numbs me nicely.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Zia nods. “You are, but you aren’t all here. Come, tell me what’s wrong. I can make it better.”
I shake my head. “There’s no making anything better. She’s going to marry that sack of shit, and I’m going to have to put up with him for the rest of my life. Unless I move away, but then Dad will be all alone, and I can’t do that to him. So I’m basically stuck here for all of time, wanting to vomit every single time I see the two together.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal.
